Angels on the Battlefield
by LSgrimm91
Summary: She was gritting her teeth, letting off an endless chorus of shots at anything that moved. She was exposed, but apparent wild horses wouldn't move her from him. God, she was a beauty. Tag for 'Heroes'.


**A/ramble: I needed to post a diddy. This one is for 'Heroes'. It's been a while and although this has probably been done before, I thought, 'eh, why not?' So please... Enjoy!**

**~ Angels on the Battlefield ~**

Death gliders overhead and the whizzing of hot lead sang in toneless melody, strung together with the bass of rapidly fired staff blasts that surrounded him better than any manmade stereo music. Mud and unkempt grass gave beneath his boots, with the occasional shrub springing forth from the earth. He wasn't too worried about the hot plasma of enemy fire, but more the invisible shots from his own men. And the rocks. It was like a giant chess board, and Jack was taking cover behind the pawns.

He retreated, laying down cover fire on SG thirteens six. He had to rely on instinct to move from cover to cover, both eyes open as he peered through his scope. One for his current target, the other searching for the next. Swarms of flying chunks of dirt impacted his eyes and the smell of smoke and gunpowder burned his nostrils. He was boiling in his uniform and sweat moistened the flannel lining of his khaki hat.

He found cover beside Colonel Dave Dixon, who greeted him with a hasty, but humorous remark. Jack wasn't in the mood. A crashing wave of six bombs dropped behind them and the ground trembled in objection. Hot air blew over his wet neck and down the back of his shirt, his vision seeing the world in orange. This was just another version of Hell.

Dixon was talking to him, but he wasn't listening. Carter was to his right and Teal'c ahead, laying out a good dose of covering fire. He took the small window of opportunity to reload.

"...You got those clips?" Jack heard him say. He thrust the spare metal magazine into Dixon's chest. With more dexterity than he usually displayed, Jack dumped the empty mag and replaced it. The radio crackled, but told him nothing new.

"It doesn't matter; we're not gonna be able to hold this position for long."

His eyes followed the Jaffa ahead as he calmly spoke into the canvass-shielded device. Hot smoke clouded his vision for a second. Another voice came over as he shouldered the rifle; Janet this time. Carter called to him, telling him they needed to fall back. One of Dixon's men fired off a grenade, the grey streaming showing its projection. It cleared their front nicely. He caught the slight movement from the left corner of his eye. A grey ghost in the speckled green mass. He watched and glanced back to the front, though he didn't see anything.

They needed to get out, but couldn't afford to be flanked. Even if only by one Jaffa. He could see another boulder between him and their stalker. His knee objected and he rose from his cover.

He'd heard stories from wounded soldiers. Stories about hearing the bullet that nearly kills you. Some will swear they heard it coming. Others say they never heard a sound. Well, Jack heard it. Loud and clear. The loud zip of energy exiting the end of the staff weapon. The air pushed aside as it flew towards him. Hell, he thought he heard the minute click of the trigger giving way. What he didn't hear was the impact.

Oh, he _felt_ it. It pushed the wind from his body and pressure pulsed through to his head. It all happened in a twisted slow motion. The jostle of his body when it impacted. The smell... _God, the smell_... It's sobering to smell your own flesh and clothes burn.

Everything was quiet. He was still falling when he heard her call his name. He's heard her say 'Sir' so many times, in so many ways. This was a time he hated the way she said it. It was raw and distressed. He landed on the ground softly, much like he would onto his bed after a long mission. By the cool air on his forehead, his hat had removed itself from his head. The sounds around him were muffled and deceptively comforting in their crescendo. More bombs fell. The bullets and blasts continued to whizz and the fight carried on.

He could only just grasp the feeling of someone leaning over him. The hand touching his side. Then that same hand, now slick with blood, touching his cheek.

"Sir?"

Carter.

Time seemed to realise its folly and sped up. The rapid firings of a rifle close by. Right above him. The staff blasts lessened and the chittering of bullets increased. They must be winning. His mouth was dry. Jack was able to grab hold of reality for a second. Just enough to open his eyes a little and look up at the sky. From here, it seemed clear; almost pleasant. A few clouds dancing here and there. Breath wheezed out of him and he lowered his gaze to a yellow halo in a rifle wielding guardian.

She was gritting her teeth, letting off an endless chorus of shots at anything that moved. She was exposed, but apparent wild horses wouldn't move her from him. God, she was a beauty. Even with the green uniform, the tactical vest, the rifle, the combat boots and dirt on her face. In spite of the rage in her eyes and the pure, unadulterated aggression in her body language, she was amazing.

~ SJ ~

"...When you were lying there..."

She's giving him her best 'good little soldier' routine. Airman... _Major_... Whatever. Never mind the tear making its way down her left cheek. He is a bit vague on the events after he was hit. It's more like a dream he can't quite believe was real. But it was. He's been hit enough times to know.

She's struggling to meet his eye and it weakens him. He doesn't understand this need of hers to always be strong. To be indestructible when she clearly isn't. And he prefers her that way. He feels better in the knowledge that she isn't always level-headed and does make rash decisions. She did when she knelt over him and fired her rifle like a woman possessed.

"...I'm really glad you're okay."

Was this the woman that defended him so ardently on the battlefield? When he opened his eyes to ask if he was dead and for less than a blink of the eye, swear he saw an angel?

Jack was terrible with words. Even if he wasn't, there was nothing to be said now. He likes this human side of her. The one that mourns and falters and covers his six as well as he does hers. It's one of the many things he loves about his second in command. In every sense of the word; professionally and emotionally. The silence tells her that.

"Come here..."

~ SJ ~

**Like many diddy's; no idea where it came from. Now to do MYOTOS and C7 of Syracuse. **


End file.
